


Perfect

by The_Crazed_Artist



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Clothing Porn, Crossdressing, M/M, Really honestly somebody should have taken my keyboard away years ago, ideally while I was still in the womb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Crazed_Artist/pseuds/The_Crazed_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has a little evening habit that he finally reveals to Erik, and much to his relief, Erik responds exactly as he hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a gifset compiled by the lovely Beauxtiful. When my terrible/lovely friend showed it to me I had to write a response and decided to post it here for others to read (and hopefully enjoy too).

Charles straightened as he heard the door open behind him, his face already powdered to prevent the dust from landing on the delicate silk ensemble he had planned for tonight. His heart thundered in his chest as his breath froze in his lungs and his eyes looked up at the mirror, unable to turn the face the door or the figure standing in it. He knew how he looked, half finished, a creature in between beloved professor and tempting vixen.

Just as he wanted the other to find him.

Charles had agonized for months about how he should confess his little hobby to Erik, especially after the joke he played on him with Angel at that raunchy club. How he imagined Erik in a get up he had worn only two weeks prior to that moment. It was something he kept private, even to his dearest sister Raven, and something he was not sure Erik would find appealing when the man seemed to favor his more masculine attributes…

Of course imagining Erik’s previous, very exuberant, performance of fellatio last night was not going to help him in this situation. An erection while wearing black silk French cut panties and a matching bra might give Erik the wrong idea about what he did three nights a week. Of course what to call this small practice, transvestism or cross-dressing are the more accurate terms for it than drag since he did not exactly perform in it nor exaggerated his femininity, but even then it was tough for him to properly label what he considered to be his “peculiar” situation.  
That is what led him to take this chance, of exposing his secret to Erik instead of confessing it verbally and awkwardly trying to explain it while blushing over dinner or in the bed. It gave Erik a good idea what was happening, the female undergarments and beginnings of makeup unmistakable, but leaving him only half prepared was also to remind Erik that he was still Charles, the man he had loved and cared for two years now. 

Charles met Erik’s eyes in the reflective glass, wondering if the wide gaze and frozen frame was going to melt into anger and disgust or remain chilled before the other man turned away and they moved on pretending that nothing happened, secrets left buried in dusty closets and cellars. 

He expected the roaming eyes, but not the lids drooping in a heated gaze down his legs, their length exaggerated by the cut of the panties. He had braced for the others lips to part, for words to tumble out, but he was stunned as the first phrase from his lover’s lips was simply:

“You should wear stockings.”

The silence that followed filled the room, and the air in Charles’ lungs went from frigid to burning. Erik’s eyes lifted, meeting Charles’ once again in the mirror, a small knowing smirk playing on his lips that wiped any disbelief Charles made have considered from the shocking reply. 

Slowly, as if walking in a cage with a hungry lion, Charles made his way to the locked dresser that held his private “collection” of various feminine items. Without breaking their locked gaze, he pulled out a long shimmering pair of stockings, fully fashioned style and thigh high cut made of black silk, and a matching garter belt of sheer black lace to match it.

He could feel Erik’s eyes keep track on him as he sauntered to the small stool set up by the mirror. He took his time slipping the cool elastic belt up his legs, running his hands over the fabric to make sure it was flat and evenly stretched around his waist. Then he rolled up the first stocking into a small bunch and slipped his toe in, all of his nails trimmed to make sure no runs appeared as he carefully pulled the silk up his leg. His foot braced on the stool, Charles hands worked in the rhythmic zigzag pattern he had grown accustomed to after hundreds of nights of pulling on various stockings of all cuts and styles, each needing a gentle steady touch to make sure they stayed intact. He pulled the stocking up to the top of his thigh and then once fully stretched up he folding the top down half an inch, giving a bit more for his garter to hold onto and prevent the top from straining too much. He did the same for the other leg, making sure the fabric was pulled evenly over his flesh, smiling a little at himself as he clipped the garter bands in their proper place. 

“Are my seams straight?”

Charles asked, turning to face the mirror again, letting Erik survey his legs once more as his hands rested on his hips, trying not to tap his fingers as he waits anxiously for the others response. There was a silent question inside the one he just spoke, one begging for approval, acceptance, perhaps even a celebration of this discovery about them both.  
Erik stepped into the room, easing closer to Charles as his eyes roamed his silk clad body. Charles had to suppress a shudder as suddenly Erik took that last step, others firm full clothed frame pressing against his, able to feel the heat of the others body even through the fabric of the others suit from their dinner date out with his sister earlier this evening. The shiver came anyways as Erik tilted his head, his breath ghosting over the shell of Charles’ ear before the man rumbled the answer Charles was hoping for.

“Perfect”


End file.
